


until we meet again

by whatliesdreaming



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Gen, M/M, Minor Character Death, ill tag more characters when they're more relevant lol, implied relationships for now, mild spoilers for sylvain and felix backstory atm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-14 05:22:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20595395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatliesdreaming/pseuds/whatliesdreaming
Summary: The Gautier Crest gives the gift of being able to see the dead.





	1. Chapter 1

His first insight into the effects of his birth was when nobody else saw the figures outside of their home as a child. Staff simply waved his comments off as the workings of a child’s imagination; some humored him and pretend to see but, in the end, he was alone.

Sometimes, Sylvain would speak to the figures. Their gaze would never turn to Sylvain as he spoke; forever, they would stare up at House Gautier, unblinking. Sylvain didn’t mind. It made it easier to talk.

Age brought knowledge and Sylvain learned the truth. The crest had granted him the ability to see the dead. At age ten he had been so unnerved by the realization that he tried to share it with his elder brother Miklan. The fifteen-year-old had struck him afterwards, accusing Sylvain of a list of offenses that Sylvain didn’t even fully comprehend.

Sylvain had taken it into stride. Such behavior was expected of Miklan, but the conversation had ended with Sylvain telling Miklan about the spirits that were always around him.

There were none, but the unsettled flash of panic on Miklan’s face before Sylvain darted away had been worth the inevitable future attempt on his life.

(He wondered, if Miklan ever managed to kill him, if he would become a ghost wandering the halls of House Gautier.)

* * *

On Sylvain’s eleventh birthday, a spirit spoke to him for the first time.

“Your death will be painful.” She whispered to him in his room. Sylvain could only laugh. How many times had he heard that from his own brother? Too many to count.

“Pain means I’ll have time to make amends with the heavens. Thank you though.” He sat up in bed, smiling at the spirit shrouded in darkness. “I bet you were beautiful when you were alive.”

The spirit didn’t speak, so he continued.

“Were you a mama when you were alive? You look like you were. The best mamas are the ones that are soft. Mine is super thin, has a waist like this, see?” Sylvain held his hands up and made a circle. “It’s super scary when we’re around heavy winds, I think she might fly away one day.” Pausing, Sylvain tried to make out the features of the spirit’s face. “What do you look like? It looks like you’re wearing a veil.”

Stepping out of the bed, Sylvain went to the window. “Here, maybe some moonlight will make you easier to see.”

Moonbeams illuminated the room with soft light. How lovely, Sylvain thought, to see a full moon. Light casted away the shadows and Sylvain could see the sunken, rotted features of the spirit that were blurred at the tears that came to his eyes from her visage. She was wearing a bridal gown. Had she been young?

How sad. How sad.

“You’re beautiful even now, mama.”

She does not speak again.

* * *

Sylvain didn’t know how to tell his friends about his sixth sense, and the idea of bringing it up to any of them made him anxious, so life went on with his ability a secret closely kept to his heart.

A secret Sylvain regretted once news of the Tragedy of Duscur reached him.

How could he tell Dimitri not to worry? That his family did not linger, stuck to the earth intending to haunt him? In fact, no ghosts clung to his side.

No one blames you for being the one to survive, Sylvain wanted to say, but the words became stuck in his throat.

It was okay, Sylvain rationalized. Seeing how closely Dimitri was seated with the boy he had brought back from Duscur, Sylvain knew. Whatever bond had been formed between Dimitri and… (Dedue. That had been the name of the other boy. The boy who had given him a hard look when he came to speak with Dimitri. A protector.)

The bond between Dimitri and Dedue would be more than enough for Dimitri, Sylvain thought.

For now. 

* * *

Funeral arrangements were long and exhausting.

Hearing people Sylvain knew had never even properly talked to Glenn give a speech about him irritated him. Sylvain could only imagine the turmoil Felix was feeling about the speakers.

Really, he could only imagine anything Felix felt at the time. Felix had spent the funeral in silence, eyes fixed ahead in the fashion that unnerved Sylvain in the way it reminded him of the dead.

Would he feel numb if Miklan died, Sylvain wondered as he turned out the services asking Seiros to guide Glenn in the afterlife. With how mangled Glenn’s body had been, funeral rites had already been performed for the burial. The ceremony was simply to give a relief to the living, a proper goodbye.

Yet, Sylvain noticed, Glenn was not gone. It was when Sylvain turned to stretch that he spotted the familiar face in the back pews of the church.

Glenn, at his own funeral.

Sylvain felt an itching at the back of his mind as he excused himself from Felix. Sliding into the back pew, Sylvain stared at the side of Glenn’s face, reaching out and feeling the familiar, ugly sensation in his stomach.

(Making physical contact with the ghosts he saw felt like falling without the relief of an eventual end.)

Sylvain started to speak in a whisper. “I’m so sorry, Glenn. You didn’t deserve that useless talk from your father. A beautiful death. That’s easy to say for someone still alive.”

Would Glenn talk? Sylvain hoped so. What a perfect way to get whatever last words Glenn might’ve—

“Felix is looking pathetic.” Glenn commented. Not a cold or angry tone, just a matter of fact one.

Sylvain smiled. On second thought, who cared about what Glenn wanted to say?

“I’m glad it was you and not him. I would choose you to die a hundred times over him.” It was a struggle to not get loud.

Some nearby attendants looked back at him with disdain.

Glenn turned to Sylvain, smiled. With the memory of the lively, crude Glenn still so fresh in his mind, the gentleness radiating from Glenn now felt almost eerie to him.

“I know. I know a lot of things now, Sylvain. Like about the promise you made to him.”

Sylvain wanted to ask how but stopped. Knowing about the afterlife felt profane enough.

“Our promise is no concern of the dead.”

“You’re right. It isn’t.”

The rest of the funeral was spent in silence until Glenn spoke for the last time.

“Don’t let my brother die alone, Gautier. I expect you to stop being such a coward.” When Sylvain turned to reply, confused and a little outraged, Glenn was gone.

* * *

Sylvain was nineteen when he killed for the first time, and he learned yet again...

Death was inevitable.

Sylvain had dealt the final blow. His lance was buried in the chest of the beast, black splatter marks swallowed by the stone.

(Better his hand than anyone else's. Better his than anyone else's. Better him, better this, better now.)

The light was leaving the eyes of the monster that once was his brother. The Black Beast—no, Miklan breathed, and the bubbles of blood against his maw burst and his eyes rolled upwards.

Sylvain stepped forward despite the warnings of the professor, close enough to feel the warm breath.

Putting his hand on the side of Miklan’s face, Sylvain closed his eyes as his brother passed away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd. obviously.  
mostly born out of the gautier/death parallel  
would like to expand with odd powers some of the other crests bestow in this au eventually


	2. sleep soundly

_There was something wrong with Miklan. Sylvain had known it for a long time._

_“It’s a special well.” Miklan had promised him, arm around his shoulders to guide him. “A well that can grant any wish you have.”_

_“Any wish?”_

_“Yes. No matter how fantastic.”_

_Sylvain wished he would’ve felt less surprised at the pair of hands that pushed him over the edge into the depths of the well when he had leaned over, trying to catch a glimpse of the spirit that would grant his wish-_

_I wish Miklan loved me._

* * *

“Sylvain! Sylvain, wake up!”

Sylvain clung tightly to Dimitri, trying to stop himself from shaking. How uncool, to have a bad dream in the first place, Sylvain thought.

Even worse that Dimitri had come to help.

“Sorry.” Sylvain let go of the other quickly, wiping at his face. “Weird dream.”

The blonde wasn’t going to let the state he found the other in go. “Sylvain, perhaps you should stay in today. I’ll inform the professor that you’re ill.”

“No. No, I think being by myself would do more harm than good right now anyways.” Sylvain tried to rise from his bed, but Dimitri grabbed his arm to keep him there. “Your Majesty, I’m fine. I barely remember what the dream was about now anyways.”

“Sylvain. You don’t have to lie.” Gingerly, or at least as gingerly as the prince could manage, he wrapped his arms around Sylvain. “It isn’t your fault. I’m so sorry.”

_“Sounds like something you should be telling yourself,” _Sylvain thought, although he bit back from saying comment because Dimitri’s tone was so pure and genuine in a headache inducing way. 

It made it difficult to say no to him.

Sighing, Sylvain returned the embrace, patting Dimitri on the back.

“…thanks for coming to check on me, Dimitri.”

Dimitri hummed happily, and, perhaps as the result of being rather touched deprived over the past few weeks, squeezed Sylvain again until the other slapped a hand against his arm.

“You trying to break my back? Gentle, please.”

“I’m sorry! It’s just, we really don’t do things like this anymore. We should do it more often.”

“Yeah, because we’re not kids anymore, Dimitri. Besides, wouldn’t people get the wrong idea?”

“I think you mean they would get the right idea, that we’re friends.”

Sylvain eyed Dimitri, who was starting to frown petulantly.

“Alright, I’ll try to hug you more often, so you don’t look so put out—_Dimitri, I said to hug more gently, please—“_

* * *

Edelgard was one of the first women to catch his eye at the monastery.

Certainly, she was attractive, and cut quite a figure among the crowd, but the most eye-catching thing about Edelgard to Sylvain was the entourage of spirits that surrounded her.

With many spirits, Sylvain found it was best to ignore them until he was in a better situation to handle them.

Unfortunately, one couldn’t gaze in Edelgard’s direction for too long without catching the attention and ire of her right-hand man, Hubert.

* * *

Of his own house, Ashe was an oddity. For someone so bright and cheerful, Sylvain had to wonder why a spirit followed in his footsteps.

One day he would approach Ashe about it, but Sylvain felt that attempting to discuss a spirit would rattle Ashe to the incomprehension, since just the mere mention of ghosts one day had the other stiff in his seat.

* * *

“Our horses seem to have taken quite a shine to each other.”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep that guy away from my beautiful Pashenka.”

Ferdinand laughed brightly, petting the top of his horse’s head. “It is not up to me if your Pashenka and my Milo have a connection, Sylvain.”

“If I come to the shed and find them making any sort of connection, I’m holding you responsible.”

“Geldings do not do such untoward things, Sylvain!”

There was no real seriousness behind Sylvain’s words. The pair worked in companionable silence with their horses until Ferdinand spoke again.

“I am so glad you too also see the beauty in them. Most do not look beyond their use of the horse, which is dreadful. One should appreciate their horse the same way they would a brother in arms.”

“I think I get along with my horse better than some of my ‘brothers in arms’,” Sylvain commented, running a brush through Pashenka’s mane. “My Pashenka is definitely cuter than a lot of them.”

Ferdinand looked thoughtful. “I have a secret to tell you. How well can you keep things to yourself, Sylvain?”

“Until death.” Sylvain replied. “Everything comes out on the deathbed though, sorry.”

Ferdinand hid a laugh behind his hand. “You have such a strange sense of humor.”

“Yeah? So, what’s the secret? You’ve got me curious.”

“I can communicate with horses.”

_What?_

Baffled, Sylvain tried to think of what to say. “Do you…think it’s…” Could horses really communicate with humans? Sylvain wasn’t sure. “Do you think it might be because of your crest? I’ve—heard before that strange things can come with having one—”

Ferdinand raised an eyebrow. “It was only a jest! Your face looked so convinced. I do apologize, I did not think you would believe me.”

Well. There wasn’t any other way to describe how Sylvain felt aside from feeling let down. Petting his mare, he looked out the stable. Dark gray clouds hung in the sky. Sylvain reached out and felt droplets of water hit his upturned palm.

“Looks like some heavy rain soon.”

“That is rather unfortunate. I was hoping to not get rained on today.”

Sylvain grinned at Ferdinand. “Not much choice there.”

When Sylvain looked back up at the sky there wasn’t a single gray cloud, only bright sunlight. The oddity was increased when Sylvain noticed the gray clouds still hung in the air several yards away.

Ferdinand clapped. “The rain seems to have moved on without falling on us! How fortunate!”

“Uh. Ferdinand? Did you do something?”

“Come now Sylvain, if we hurry, we can make it to lunch without getting rained on. Goodbye my Milo!”

“Ferdinand, are you ignoring me?”

“Oh Sylvain, you will get us stuck in the muck and it will take ages to rinse off!”

“You’re definitely ignoring me, got it.” Unable to help but laugh at the oddity of the situation, Sylvain followed Ferdinand.

* * *

Felix was angry with him again. Sylvain wished he knew why.

“If you had a brain in that head of yours, you’d know.”

“Let’s say I don’t. Would you tell me then?”

“No.”

Felix turned heel and walked away, leaving a puzzled Sylvain behind. What the hell had he done to make Felix so grouchy? The redhead couldn’t remember much of the past week since it had been filled with mostly mundane tasks like tending to armor and cleaning…

Wait a moment.

“Tell me you’re not pissed off about me cleaning that room of yours!”

“I had everything where I liked it—”

“The trash, you mean. The stuff making your room reek like a wyvern pen?”

“Shut up!”

“You can’t keep inviting me to your room and expecting me to not clean it.”

“You could always not come inside of the room. I don’t come into your room and move everything about like it’s nothing.”

“What are you talking about? You absolutely do. Why, just the other day, you came in and made a wreck of my desk trying to find my spare inkwell for yourself.”

“That…” Felix frowned. “That doesn’t count.” It didn’t slip Sylvain’s notice that he had slowed down for the redhead to catch up with him at that point.

“Oh?” Sylvain grinned at him. “I don’t mind cleaning up for you, you know.”

“I don’t need you to.”

“I like being able to do things for you, Felix.”

“Shut up.”

“It makes me happy.”

“You’re absolutely intolerable, you know that?”

“I think you enjoy it, deep down.”

“Whatever helps you keep living in that delusional world of yours.”

Cute.

Sylvain decided to press his luck and link their arms together in the hallway. Despite Felix delivering a well-placed punch to his chest that stung for it, he let their arms stay linked together for a while as they talked.

(More like as Sylvain talked and Felix grunted before something came up that made him go on a tangent, but it was a conversation style they were both used to.)

* * *

Tucked away where no passerby could see, Felix, age 9, and Sylvain, age 11, were curled together near the pond on the Fraldarius estate.

Ingrid was off with Glenn, most likely locking hands and doing horrible things like kissing each other under an oak tree like out of one of the cheesy tales Ingrid liked so much. Not that Sylvain could complain; Glenn seemed to lighten up when he was around his fiancée.

“What are you in such deep thought about?” Felix tilted his head, trying to get a better look at Sylvain’s expression. To taunt him, Sylvain looked away. The other jabbed Sylvain in the side in return. “Come on now, be honest.”

“I’m not thinking about much. I’m in a good mood, and I get to be away from home. It’s nice.”

“I don’t like leaving home that much. Why are you always trying to get away?” Felix moved closer.

“You’re being awfully nosy today. Are you in a mood?”

“Am I your best friend?”

Now that wasn’t the angle Sylvain was expecting.

“What do you mean?”

“Forget it.”

“No, there’s no way I could ever forget that.” Sylvain laughed, putting a hand on Felix to soothe him. “You think I come visit all the time to see you?”

“…”

Cute, Sylvain thought, feeling pleased with how red Felix looked. “Yeah.”

“Yeah what?”

“You’re my best friend.”

“Really? You mean it?” Felix beamed. “Since we’re best friends, that means we can make a promise.”

“A promise?”

“Yeah. A really important promise, so you have to mean it with all your being.”

Sylvain wasn’t sure he knew how to mean something with all his being, but he wouldn’t be one to lie to Felix. “What’s the promise?”

“Best friends shouldn’t be without each other, ever. So, I need you to promise me.”

“Felix, I’m dying of anticipation over here.”

“No!” Felix shook his head. “You can’t. That’s the promise! We can’t die without each other. As best friends, we must die on the same day, okay? That way we’re never lonely.” Felix’s eyes were wide as he spoke, swinging his hands around for emphasis in an almost manic fashion. “You have to promise me.”

Sylvain was quiet for a handful of seconds, confused as to what would even make Felix want such a promise from him. During his silence, Felix reached out and touched his face, touched his soft hands over the fading scar that rested over his eyebrow from a recent incident with Miklan.

Ah.

Sylvain smiled warmly, reaching up and putting his hands over Felix’s.

“I won’t ever leave you, okay? I promise. We’ll go together, whenever that day comes.”

“I promise we’ll go together too.” Felix was tearing up but smiling, face turning red before he quickly pressed his mouth against Sylvain’s brow. “Because we’re best friends.”

“Aww, you’re being cute today, Felix.”

Felix immediately attempted to pull his hands away, blush darkening. “No! I’m not! Stupid Sylvain.”

“My adorable best friend.” Sylvain teased, letting go of Felix’s hands. “Want a kiss too?”

“…maybe.”

* * *

_One of his caretakers, Evette, had been the one to find him in the well.  
_

_Sylvain buried his face into her bosom as she held him close, shaking. She was so soft and warm. She was what Sylvain imagined all mothers should be like._

_“How did you even get down there?”_

_“Miklan…” Sylvain murmured before immediately being filed with panic and regret. Why couldn’t he have just kept quiet about it and lied? Why did he have to tell her the truth right away? Sylvain felt like crying again, squeezing the soft of Evette’s arm as she huffed, looking furious._

_“That boy should know better than to pull such a move. If it were up to me, he’d be sent off by now! Trying to do such things to the future master of the house, when your parents hear—"_

_“Don’t tell anybody.” Sylvain breathed after a few moments of calming himself._

_“What?”_

_“Don’t tell anybody. Say I fell down by myself.”_

_“Master Sylvain, you can’t be serious.”_

_“Please, Evette. I don’t want him to be sent away.”_

_I wish he loved me. Sylvain’s throat felt raw and he was cold._

-

“Sylvain.”

Sylvain’s eyes shot open as he sat up in bed.

“You sleep soundly, killer.” Words spoken in almost admiration.

Miklan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a 15k outline of where i want this to go. im probably going to be working on this fic forever as a project.  
its an enjoyable use of free time though  
LATE EDIT:  
(also almost forgot to add, i absolutely could not resist having miklan say that, given how much oblivion ive been playing as of late. forgive me.


End file.
